


One Step Ahead

by CavannaRose



Series: Rose Wilson Fics [19]
Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Terror Titans (Comics)
Genre: Escape, Gen, Healing, Slade and Eddie are just mentioned, new life, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 17:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: With a father like Slade Wilson, what does it take to live a life with any semblance of normalcy?





	1. Chapter 1

Father. It echoed through her mind like a four-letter word, a heavy mockery, an invasive, intrusive thought that beat against the edge of her consciousness. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the cruel, laughing sound that she couldn’t truly hear. Taking a deep breath, she carefully folded the newspaper in her hand, smoothing out the edges where clenched fingers had crumpled the offending epistle. Of their own free will, the tips of her fingers ran across the blurry photo under the main headline, outlining the black-and-white form in a manner that was almost longing. THE TERMINATOR SLAUGHTERS MAYOR DURING INAUGURAL SPEECH. The headline screeched up at her, making her flinch, withdrawing her hand. He had been here, in town.

Coincidence.

There was no other explanation. She had been so careful when she had disappeared this time, laying low. No contracts. Hellfire, she hadn’t even carried so much as a blade since she had turned away from the legacy of pain and death that Slade had left her. She deserved more than misery and blood. Eddie had taught her that much, and it might have taken some time, but she had finally embraced the lesson. After struggling through addiction and self-hatred all on her own. She was strong, stronger than any of their former team mates had ever given her credit for, and now she stood on her own two feet.

Naturally, that’s when the shadow of her paternity would reach out to cloud the edges of her existence. It never failed, she could struggle and fall, and he would be there, watching with disgust, she could fly and soar, and he would be around a corner, ready to drag her back down into the darkness where he chose to dwell.

Not this time.

For herself, for her abandoned friendships, for her two dead brothers… she would not give in. Brushing her hair forward to hide her eye patch, she paid the newsstand cashier and headed back to her little apartment, going through the mental checklist of what she needed to do now. Her bug-out bag was packed, cash was taped up in a baggie inside the toilet bowl, it would take her far. Forged ID documents beneath the floorboards under the window… She just had to call the bar she’d been working at and let them know she wouldn’t be in. It was a risk, but the owner had been real nice to her, and she hated to leave the guy in the lurch after that.

She dialed his number as she headed up the four flights of stairs to her walk up, relieved when the machine picked up. A brief message, no details, and that was all taken care of. Moving across the apartment with the silent efficiency that had been beaten into her, she gathered everything she needed, pausing to sweep the small flat one more time. It hadn’t been much, one bedroom, one bathroom, Spartan furnishings, but it had been hers. She had earned every one of those pillows in their muted blues and greens, not with her blades, but with a soft smile and the skills that _normal_ people had. It had been nice, that veneer of normalcy, but deep inside she knew it had been borrowed time. He always ruined everything, even if he didn’t know she was here.

Crossing to the small bedroom she threw open the closet, grabbing the small laptop that was set up in there and removing the rocket stick, crushing it under the heel of her boot and then kicking the twisted plastic shreds beneath the bed. With a small sigh of dismissal, she pulled the maps, photographs and newspaper articles off the wall, spreading dabs of white toothpaste over the pinholes to hide them as she rolled the papers up and tucked them into her bugout bag with the computer. The last photo, the only picture of Lillian Worth she had left, she folded up along well-worn white lines and tucked into her top, right over her heart, where Mom belonged. She was getting so close, if she only had a few more days…

Couldn’t risk it.

Ensuring that the place looked undisturbed, she paused to grab a torn and stained black hoodie off the coatrack, holding it to her face and inhaling the memories it contained. The smell of sulphur had long since faded, but the comfort was still there. Pulling the sweater over her head, she shouldered her bag and headed back out the door, tossing the key into the scraggly attempt at a garden out front. She wouldn’t need it anymore.

Four blocks later, a motorcycle engine revved, and even her best efforts didn’t prevent a strand of pure white hair from escaping the hood she had pulled tight over her face, waving behind her as she powered down the street and towards the horizon. Rose didn’t know where she was headed this time, but that lack of plan was its own layer of protection. She was erratic, unpredictable, and hopefully, impossible to locate.


	2. Chapter 2

A new town, a new city, rife with possibilities… that was what she needed. Perhaps there she would make the breakthrough she so desperately sought in her mother’s disappearance. She knew it wasn’t healthy, this fixation she had on her parent. It had been years, if Sweet Lilli didn’t want to be found, then could Rose really force it? The muscles in her jaw tensed as she looked out over the city. Yes. She could. After all, she was also the daughter of Slade Wilson, and he never thought about the wreckage he left in his pursuit of…

What even was he pursuing? Perfection? A family? A fighter that could finally best him? She shook her head, long hair blowing around her face, blocking out the view momentarily. Thinking about her father was almost as maddening as wondering about her mother. Rose leaned against her motorcycle, tipping her face up to catch the last warm rays of the setting sun, letting them wash the chaotic thoughts from her mind. She had been on the run, in hiding, for what seemed like an eternity, but that was counterbalanced by the odd sense of contentment that had settled over her. 

It had been more than a year since she had killed someone.

Funny, the difference that made in her attitude. She had spent so long defining herself as a killer, a mercenary, a fighter. She had been no more a person than the katanas she had mastered, another weapon in her father’s arsenal, regardless of the choices she thought she had made. When it tangled with all the doubt and self-recrimination and rage that made up her centre, it had damn near killed her, well, that and the adrenaline she had been huffing. Even the thought of the insidious drug had her fingers curling in craving, but she squashed that as well.

She was stronger than her addiction.

She fingered the frayed edge of the sweater she had wrapped around herself, a half smile tugging up the corner of her lip as she thought of its previous owner. The facial expression lacked her usual sardonic notes, no sorrow or rage, just affection as she let her mind wander through her memories. He had always believed in her, encouraged her to be more than the killer, would he be proud of her now? Pulling out a pack of cigarettes she fumbled with her lighter, watching the flame for a long moment before igniting the tobacco, breathing in the harsh smoke. Yeah. She thought he just might be.

Flipping open the saddlebags on the motorcycle she considered the contents, so different than they had once been. Gone were the blades, guns, and booze, instead there was a change of clothes, a small wad of cash and a burner cell phone. Maybe it was the nostalgia, or maybe it was something else, but looking up at the big building on the horizon, she dialed a familiar number, let it ring as she watched. An unfamiliar voice picked up on the other end, but she wasn’t surprised. The years had taken their toll on everyone, after all.

“Hello? Hello? Who is this?”

“Shut up,” Rose cut the person off, grinning a little at the affronted noise that came from the receiver. “Slade may not have left down after his little dance with the mayor, a dance you should have cut in on, by the way. Back in the day he had a flop house just off of Utopia on 74th. As far as I know nobody important ever found it, so he may still be using it. Good a place as any to start.”

“Hey, I don’t know how you got this number, but this isn’t a joking matter buddy…”

“This isn’t a joke, and I don’t make a habit of handing out helpful hints. Do whatever you want.” She hung up with a snap of the case, dropping the phone and giving it the same treatment she had issued to the jump stick earlier. Rose had done her civic duty, as far as she was concerned, it was up to whatever kids were manning the Tower these days to do something, or not, she didn’t much care either way. Best case scenario? They kept Slade distracted while she slipped out of town. Worst case? She had just wasted both their time.

She had lived in so many places, over the years, but some part of her would always consider this trash heap of a city home. Here she had met and made the first real friends she had ever known, and watched those friendships fall apart. She had watched people she respected face impossible odds, and seen some of them fall as a result. Hellfire, she’d fallen a few times herself amidst these streets. She had come here to heal, in a way, and part of her felt like that had been accomplished. Slade wasn’t driving her out, he was simply a reminder that it was time to move on, to move forward. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, and for once in her life, she wasn’t lost either.

Pulling a map out of her other saddlebag, she traced the road she was on, planning the trip in her head, laughing as she considered a few options, before making a decision. She had a long, hard ride ahead of her, but that was half the fun.


End file.
